To Lay With Wolves
by Mrs Darcy-Firth
Summary: Lord John's lands are under threat of attack. With his heir Dean he sets of to gain allies from the mountains, werewolves led by the arrogant Michael.
1. Chapter 1

1.

The small procession faltered at the snow-covered tree line at the base of the mountain. Once inside those trees they would pass into Wolven territory. The more superstitious of the party harked back to the stories told at night by their parents and retold by gleeful older siblings, warning them of the feral half-men who would feast on their still beating hearts should they venture too deep into the forest. Their anxieties had been a source of light hearted mockery to the others over the course of their four day journey, but now faced with the dark reality of the Lost Forest even those teasing voices fell silent.

They had journeyed far beyond Winchester borders out of desperate necessity. Powerful enemies were massing to the east and south and Lord John was forced to reach out to ancient northern allies or face annihilation. So far the old alliances had not failed. His armies were swelled by men sent in aid but he still could not yet hope to repel the forces gathering against him. This trek into the mountains was a last hope for his people. If he could persuade the Wolven First, Michael, to send his warriors to assist then they stood a chance.

Lord John turned in his saddle to gruffly address his small retinue. He had travelled lightly with only his eldest son, two Hunters and four squires. "We are expected. We pass through this land with permission and protection. We come in supplication and you will behave accordingly." He looked over to Dean, who was bent forward and whispering soothing words to his nervous horse. "Understand that are here on our hands and knees. We will beg and grovel and kiss Michael's ass if that's what it takes. You know what's expected of you Dean. If we fail here today ..."

"We won't fail."

He took quiet pride in his son's confidence but scowled in frustration at being interrupted. "Should we fail, you will ride back to take command of our men. I'll turn west and try to buy support from the sea-ports."

Dean spat in the snow by his horses feet. "Mercenaries? We'd be fighting to our front while watching our backs."

"We may not have a choice," John rumbled. "Bobby said the First was willing to grant us an audience but made no assurances beyond that. The wolves haven't involved themselves with our kind for generations."

"We'll convince him. If we can't hold Crowley and Lilith back it's only a matter of time before they come crawling all over the mountains."

John grunted noncommittally and kicked to urge his horse forward. They hadn't gone more than a few yards closer to the trees before the carthorse behind them reared, almost tipping the small supply cart. Even as his own horse caught fright he heard Dean calling a warning to the front. He struggled with the reins to control the dancing mare but caught sight of what Dean had seen, what had spooked the horses.

Standing just inside the shadows of the forest were two enormous wolves, easily two, three times the size of the timber wolves which occasionally threatened their farmers. One was standing, larger and darker than it's sitting companion, both calmly watching the display of equine distress they were clearly causing.

Dean had already dismounted and was ordering two of the squires to lead the horses back a ways, resigned to continuing on foot. John dropped out of the saddle and handed the mare over before joining his son at the wagon, grabbing his pack plus food and water skins and striding towards the patiently watching wolves.

The two wolves, evidently their escort, waited only until John and Dean reached the tree line then turned and set off at an easy pace deeper into the forest. The others were forced to run to catch up or risk falling behind.

.

They walked for hours, the ground beneath them rising steadily and becoming treacherously icy until Dean was forced to use his hands to help him climb. Their escort had no difficulty traversing the changing terrain but had to slow their pace to allow for the struggling humans.

He glanced over at his father. He showed no sign yet of fatigue, although Dean attributed that more to the older man's inherent stubbornness rather than his fitness. The Hunters were holding their own but the younger squires were flagging.

"How much further?" He called to the wolves ahead. His father looked stern but said nothing.

The wolves paused and the smaller of the two stepped out of sight behind the larger. There was a soft, human grunt and a moment later a lanky young man stood and stepped around the wolf. He appeared unconcerned by both his nakedness and the chilling wind as he approached Dean and John.

"My apologies. We are unused to the limitations of humans."

Dean bristled but the young man's tone was respectful and light.

"My name is Samandriel. Do you require rest?"

"Do we have much further to go?" Dean repeated.

"Not at all. If your young are able to continue we will arrive shortly."

Dean looked over at the squires and was amused by the sudden indignant determination that bloomed on their faces.

"I think our young will be just fine," he smiled. Samandriel nodded and to Dean's surprise elected to continue the journey as a man alongside them.

"We are pleased to welcome you to our lands Lord John. It is an age since we last entertained human guests, your envoy notwithstanding. "

Dean knew his father well enough to recognise the discomfort he was concealing at having to converse with a naked youth as though it were a daily event, and took guilty humour in it.

"I look forward to meeting your First. Sir Robert thinks most highly of him."

Dean hoped that Samandriel would not question his father's diplomacy. In truth Bobby had described the werewolf leader as arrogant at best and despotic at worst. He had spent almost a month in the mountains before ultimately succeeding in winning John nothing more than an audience.

"I liked Sir Robert very much. He used to tell us the most wonderful stories." Samandriel had the kind of puppyish energy and exuberance that was hard not to catch and Dean found himself grinning along with the other Hunters as the lad inexpertly rehashed old legends and fairytales from their childhoods.

John alone remained impassive as they climbed up through the thickening landscape. Though maybe not quite alone; as Samandriel was about to launch into yet another of Bobby's tales the dark wolf leading the group let out a quick bark and Samandriel fell instantly silent, hanging his head submissively. He turned to smile at Dean. "My apologies. I forget my place. But we are here."

John and Dean both looked around quickly as though they had somehow missed entering the Wolven stronghold but saw nothing but forest.

"Forgive me. Past the rocks," he pointed ahead at two huge and intricately carved standing stones set in a gap in the trees. Despite their size Dean had not noticed them before the young wolf had pointed them out. "Ancient magic. A protection of sorts. Please, follow me."

The dark wolf had already disappeared through the stones and Samandriel now followed, leaving the human party gaping at his fading image.

John huffed as though to dispel any doubts the others may have had of his resolve and strode through the stones himself, Dean only a step behind him. A feeling of warmth spread through Dean and in the next step was gone, an invisible barrier breached, and he was suddenly surrounded by dozens of wolves and men that he had not seen there from the other side of the stones. They kept a respectful distance from the newcomers.

Quite apart from their size, the werewolves could never be mistaken for normal wolves. Their limbs were longer and stronger, the shoulders broader. Some had a kind of mane; longer and thicker fur around their necks and down over their shoulders. All exuded a calm watchfulness that seemed incongruous with something so animal.

Their escort had now doubled; alongside the dark wolf and the still man-shaped Samandriel were two other wolves, both slender with sleek blonde fur. The huge dark wolf lowered his head and nuzzled the underside of the shorter blonde's jaw, a gesture of deference Dean had witnessed in his own hunting dogs.

Bobby had tried at length to explain the Wolven hierarchy but Dean had struggled to take it all in on such short notice. Seeing it now he wished the old man were here to guide them through it. He had a hard enough time not offending his own species.

Samandriel dropped to one knee with his head low, the back of his neck bared and vulnerable but the fair wolf paid little attention and after a moment he resumed standing, his submission having apparently been satisfactory. The blonde disappeared behind the dark wolf in the same way that Samandriel had and appeared again as a svelte woman about Dean's age with long blonde hair falling down her back. She was strikingly beautiful but with a hardness that cancelled out her nakedness to Dean's libido. She stood, as Samandriel had, unconcerned by her nudity as she pointedly looked John up and down.

"Lord John, welcome to our territories. I am Rachel, lieutenant to the Second. My Lord Michael wishes to extend to you every courtesy at our disposal and invites you and your son to dine with him this evening. The rest of your group are welcome to eat with us. If it pleases you l shall escort you to your quarters where you may rest and refresh yourselves."

"Please forward my greetings and gratitude to Lord Michael. We would be honoured to dine with him." The platitudes rolled easily off his father's tongue but Dean winced at the stiff formality. His younger brother Sam was the scholar, the diplomat, trained by Bobby to sit as Dean's future advisor as he himself sat for John. Dean was no diplomat and he hoped he would not be required to address anyone of importance. His role here was a much simpler one.

Rachel nodded and the four werewolves took up position around the party of humans, Samandriel and Rachel retaining their human form. He could hear Samandriel behind him talking with the squires, asking questions about their journey and what their duties would be now that they had no horses to tend. He was grateful to the youth for his attempt to put them at ease.

They passed groups of children playing in the snow, in both forms, who stopped their rough-housing to watch the strangers go by. Men and women smiled and waved, wolves lowered their tails and raised their ears. There was an atmosphere of curiosity and Dean couldn't help but grin back and wink at the gawking children. All but a few were naked. He spotted two elderly women by the entrance of a small tent huddled in bear furs, a young girl with a deerskin wrapped around her waist and two men about the same age as his father who wore simple brown tunics of what appeared to be cloth. Some of the older children wore long necklaces adorned with feathers and stones and flowers but the vast majority wore nothing and yet seemed oblivious of the cold air.

They passed several tents of varying sizes, some evidently communal and filled with conversation and laughter, and some more solid structures made from woven branches but nothing built from stone, nothing with any permanence. He remembered that from Bobby - the wolves were semi-nomadic with various settlements like this one scattered throughout the mountains. The main pack travelled between them depending on the hunting, the climate and the whim of the First.

They reached a collection of tents in a quieter area of the settlement. Rachel motioned to them. "Your quarters Lord John. Uriel and Samandriel will remain with you. Please do not hesitate to ask them for anything you require. I shall return at dusk to escort you to dinner." She made an awkward bow, as though she had heard them described but never seen one, and walked away with the other straw-coloured wolf at her heels.

The four squires took one of the larger tents. The two Hunters, Isaac and Tamara took a second leaving John and Dean each with their own tent.

"Get some rest son. We need to impress the wolves and it won't happen if you look like you're about to drop."

"Yes sir." Dean waited until his father had taken a tent then disappeared into the last, noticing that Samandriel and the dark wolf, Uriel, had settled themselves on the ground a little way off. Samandriel had changed unnoticed back into his wolf form and they lay with their backs to the tents, offering the humans some privacy.

Dean was impressed by the number and quality of the furs and skins that decorated the floor of the tent and up onto a raised bed. He pulled off his boots, overcoat and sword belt before sinking into the soft pelts. The mountain hike abruptly caught up to him and he was asleep in moments.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

By the time Rachel returned Dean was rested and washed and looking much more the heir to the largest territory south of the mountains. He and his father walked with Rachel and another blonde woman that he assumed he had seen in wolf-form earlier.

Dean could sense his father's tension and their position was once again driven home. This was it. Without the wolves their lands would be overrun, their people killed, their children enslaved. They could not fail here.

They were led to another large tent, outwardly no different from the other tents in the settlement except for the two massive wolves standing guard on either side of the entry. Rachel stopped and held the canvas flap open for them.

"Where do you want us to leave our swords?" Dean asked. Usually at this point when dining with nobility they would have been approached by some servant or other and respectfully relieved of any weaponry with flowing assurances of their safe return.

Rachel's smile was genuine and laced with humour. "The Second will also be dining with you. Your swords are of no consequence."

Dean and his father exchanged glances. Bobby had told them little about Michael's second-in-command, his champion, as the wolf had been away from the pack defending their border from raiders. Whenever he had heard the Second spoken of however it was with great respect and affection, and the children would re-enact his exploits in their games. He was a living legend amongst the wolves and the thought of dining with him did nothing to settle Dean's unease.

Rachel gestured for them to enter and Dean followed his father into the tent. It was decorated as the others with furs but with the addition of a large wooden table, simply carved and solid. Similarly hewn benches surrounded it and it was set with wooden flatware laden with meats and fruits.

Standing on the other side of the tent were two men, both tall and the first fully dressed people they had seen here. They were wearing fine but simple shirts, trousers, boots and belts but the contrast with what they had seen so far was striking. They ended their conversation as the Winchesters entered and moved towards the table.

"Lord John, welcome. I am Michael, First and Lord of these mountains. I trust your journey was none too arduous? The season is unpredictable this year."

Michael's manner was friendly but Dean was unnerved by the contrast between his warm smile and his blank eyes. He was a handsome man dressed in dark red, youthful and well-built but Dean was instantly on guard. Michael was a powerful man, inordinately powerful, and was well aware of it.

"We travelled well Lord Michael. Allow me to introduce my son and chosen heir, Sir Dean."

Dean took his cue and bowed efficiently to the werewolf. "My Lord."

It seemed that that was all he was trusted to do as his father quickly spoke again. "My son commands my armies my Lord. He is a formidable warrior and one of my most trusted advisors."

The latter was news to Dean but he understood what his father was doing, even as every nerve cringed from the artifice. Michael blessedly understood also and nodded in acknowledgement. "He is a strapping lad, you must be proud."

John nodded. Dean had expected less. Michael waved the other man forward. He was dressed in a deep blue, almost black and was scowling but Dean got the impression it was merely an unfortunate resting face. His hair was black and wild, his posture rigid and he seemed as uncomfortable as Dean in this formal setting.

"This is my Second, Castiel." The werewolf lifted his head to fix Dean with the most stunning blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"An honour Lord John. Sir Dean." His voice was deep and rough, his bow as stiff as Rachel's had been, evidently not a custom among the wolves. Dean tried hard not to shiver at the sound of that voice.

John acknowledged the Second with a nod but was interrupted from speaking by Michael.

"Would you care to sit? I shall send for wine." He appeared to do no such thing but moments later two naked servants entered the tent with four clay jugs apiece which were set on the table. By the time they were seated the servants had vanished.

Michael reached over and grabbed a hunk of what Dean guessed was venison and dropped it onto his plate. John did the same and only then did Castiel move to load his own plate. The meat was just the wrong side of rare for Dean but he would not disappoint his father by refusing the wolves' food. He took the smallest portion he thought he could get away with and loaded the rest of his plate with apples and berries.

He sensed he was being watched and looked up to find Castiel frowning at Dean's plate. He hurriedly took the meat and tore off a bite with his teeth, concentrating hard on not concentrating on the feel of juices dripping down the back of his throat.

Castiel frowned again, then reached for an apple. He maintained eye contact with Dean as he bit into it, subtly pushing his own plate away and focusing on the fruit. Dean gave the Second a small grateful smile and copied the gesture, sitting back in his chair and munching happily on a sweet apple. Castiel's scowl let up a little and Dean smiled again. The werewolf was handsome, maybe not as classically as Michael or himself, but most definitely handsome.

Oblivious, his father was discussing with Michael the reason for their journey. Michael appeared well-informed, most likely Bobby's doing, but allowed John to talk while he continued to eat.

"The demons first made themselves known in the deep south. They took small villages and settlements along the border of a coastal territory belonging to an ally of mine, Lord Rufus. We were preparing to send aid to mount an offensive but before we were able they had taken the country and possessed Rufus and his council. My armies and those of Sir Gordon and Lady Ellen fought against the infestation for ten long months last year, but just before winter came they both fell and we retreated back to our lands. The snows saved us. The snows and the old magic buried in our borders. It prevented the demons from sending their smoke-soldiers to infect us."

"And now the thaws are coming and you are preparing for the onslaught that must follow." Michael finished.

"You know why we are here my Lord. We respectfully request your assistance in holding our land against the demons and the armies they control. Without your aid I fear we will be lost."

Dean watched Michael carefully. He seemed unmoved and more concerned with his dinner than their situation. Something about the werewolf's disinterest in his proud father's plea stirred a hot rage in Dean's gut. Knowing he should hold his tongue he couldn't help himself. "If we fall the next door the demons come knocking at will be yours. Maybe you can hold them off, maybe you can't. Maybe you can fight them back but with all the armies of the south united against you it won't be for long."

"Dean ..." His father growled a warning.

"They'll swarm over these mountains like a plague," Dean couldn't stop, not even in the face of John's anger. "They'll kill every beast you hunt. They'll poison your water. If they can't carve you out they'll starve you out. When the thaw comes they will come for us and if you stand with us we stand a chance. You stand a chance. Join us and together we will drive them back to the sea ." Dean paused for emphasis. "Or watch us fall. And prepare for the day the demons send us for you."

"Enough Dean," John snapped. He knew he'd overstepped. But to his horror Michael began to laugh.

"You and my Second would get along well young Winchester. He expressed almost the exact same concerns not two days ago."

John glared at Dean but addressed Michael. "My son speaks from the heart, and it does not always consult the brain first, but it is the truth. Perhaps a little too bluntly phrased but truth nonetheless. Let us fight side by side and against the demon hordes that threaten us."

Michael and Castiel shared a long look and Dean got the impression that there was some kind of communication occurring. Castiel broke eye contact first. They both stood and Michael held out a hand to John. His father jumped to his feet and the two Lords gripped each other's forearm. Dean held his breath.

"Although his argument was not quite as impassioned as your son's, it was adequate enough to convince me that an alliance would prove most beneficial. You shall have my support Lord John against the demons which threaten us both."

"Thank you my Lord. You have my ..."

John's response was cut short by the appearance of a small wolf at the tent flaps who gave a quiet whine.

"Unfortunately I am called away on other business. Please stay and finish your meal. We shall meet again in the morning to discuss terms. It was a pleasure Lord John."

.

Dean lay in his assigned tent, comfy and warm on his bearskins but too agitated to sleep. He was still seething over the dismissive way Michael had behaved towards them at dinner, even though he had agreed to give them what they had come for. Michael had left with the small wolf, Naomi, barking for Castiel to accompany him. The blue-eyed Second had seemed almost angry at the First's conduct but left the Winchesters to their bloody meal.

John had barely spoken since, something Dean found he was grateful for. A surly "be ready in the morning and don't disappoint me" preceded John's retirement. He knew he would have been welcome in the Hunters' tent but felt a pressing need to be alone tonight. He was still kicking himself for speaking so out of turn at dinner, regardless of the outcome. He could have blown it completely and both he and his father knew it.

He'd snagged a jar of wine from the table as they'd left Michael's tent and was almost halfway through it before he recalled he'd better not turn up hung-over the next morning. The wolves' wine was very unlike the fruity, watery stuff they had at home. In fact it was more akin to the potato moonshine Ash would brew up behind the boatsheds on the river. It was strong and potent and Dean marvelled that they had been presented with so much of it at dinner.

Thinking about dinner led to bristling over their treatment again. They had been welcomed warmly, and ostensibly been treated with respect as befitting his father's status. But they had been greeted and escorted by apparently minor ranks; even Rachel was merely a lieutenant. In his own country John would have sent one of his sons or Bobby to meet a dignitary of note and they would have been offered the choice of whether to freshen up or of an immediate audience.

He took several deep breaths, attempting to calm himself as Sam would no doubt be telling him to do were he here. And that was the other thing. Dean was heir, the eldest, he was never meant to be traded for an alliance. Sam _should_ be here, not just with them but in Dean's place. Not that he begrudged his little brother his happiness, not even at the expense of his own, but ...

Dean forced several more deep breaths. Maybe he would finish this potato wine before the night was out. As he took another shallow swig he became aware of a figure outside his tent, hovering, as though unsure how to best announce itself.

"Door's open," Dean called, then cursed his familiarity. He was here as chosen heir, not one of the boys.

The figure ducked through the entrance. "Here. I brought you food."

Dean gawked as the Second thrust a plate towards him. When he didn't immediately take it the Second tried again. "You didn't eat." And again. "Are you not hungry?"

Dean realised something was expected of him. He stared at the wooden plate which appeared to be piled with cooked, almost burnt steaks, and apples. He looked back at Castiel, who was now watching him with a deeper scowl than he remembered.

"When I asked the cooks they told me Sir Robert preferred his meat dry. I assumed you did not eat at dinner for this reason."

Dean's slightly south of sober brain belatedly caught up. "Thanks. I mean, you have my gratitude." He reached forward and took the proffered food. "I'm frigging starving."

Castiel's expression lightened a little and Dean wondered what it would take to cause the man to smile.

"Would you be averse to company?"

It took Dean a moment to work out that he should invite the werewolf to sit. He waved Castiel in. "Not at all man, take a seat."

For lack of another option, Castiel sat cross-legged on the furs opposite Dean's seat on the bed. He produced two more jars of wine and placed them on the floor between them.

"I apologise for my Lord's leaving so early. He has many demands on his time." The apology sounded well worn, as did the messenger.

Dean swallowed a large bite of the overdone but still delicious venison. "As long as he sends us home with an army he can leave whenever he likes."

Castiel nodded. He at least seemed to appreciate Dean's frankness. "He will not go back on his word."

He took a long draught of wine which made Dean's eyes water in sympathy. Castiel showed no sign of discomfort though, and Dean concluded that werewolves must have iron livers.

"I did not have the opportunity to meet Sir Robert, though I gather he was well liked."

"Yeah, "Dean agreed between mouthfuls, "Bobby can turn on the charm when he wants to."

"Bobby?" Castiel's head cocked to the side in confusion and no that was not adorable.

"Yeah, it's a nickname. A shortened version of his name." Castiel still looked confused. "It's affectionate."

"Robert does not shorten to Bobby."

"It does where I come from." Dean sipped his own wine so as not to appear a lightweight. "Don't you have nicknames here?"

"No. We address each other by rank or title mostly. And we don't shorten our names."

Dean chewed thoughtfully. "You were off fighting raiders right, over the mountains? Is that a common threat?"

Castiel sighed. "Common yes but not usually enough of a threat to warrant my personal attention." He coughed and looked guilty. "Not that I am questioning the First's judgement. No doubt my presence has caused them to re-evaluate the wisdom of their attacks and afforded us some short peace."

Dean may have been coarse but he wasn't stupid. He was willing to bet Castiel spent more time away from the pack than with it. Castiel was a threat to Michael. His reputation alone would have served to undermine him but if Bobby was right and the wolf was as beloved as he had suspected, then he was downright dangerous. No wonder Michael was happy to send warriors back with them. Those warriors would doubtless be commanded by the legendary Second. Commanded into battle against huge odds.

Castiel was ready to be sent to war to protect his people but Michael was sending him to protect his own vaulted position.

Another stoke of the fire in his belly.

"You are an odd choice," Castiel broke into his angry musings.

"I was the only choice," Dean replied honestly, although he was disappointed that the werewolf seemed not to deem him worthy. "My father only had three sons. One of them is married already and the other is a bastard and so ineligible by your standards." Dean watched as Castiel drained the first jar of wine. "I don't suppose you know who Michael has chosen?"

The werewolf shook his head. "There are any number of sons and daughters who may be considered. One of my Captains, Anna, is Michael's youngest sister, and even my half-brother is related through his father's line. Anyone who shares blood with the First is eligible. I am not privy to Michael's thoughts on the matter however. Are you required to procreate in order to continue your line? It would narrow the options."

Seems like he wasn't the only one who could lack tact. "No, it's not required. In most of the southern countries the chosen heir is the most suitable person. It's usually a son but only because we're raised to be the most suitable. Otherwise someone outside the family is chosen and given the Winchester name." Dean sighed into his last steak. "I'll find out tomorrow I guess. Although who cares right? As long as we get the army we came for."

"You are melancholy. Are these arrangements not customary where you come from?"

"I suppose so. Just never thought I'd be at this end of one you know?"

Castiel nodded carefully but it was clear that he did not know.

"The weaker end. I always thought I'd have some choice. But Sammy got married to the love of his life and Adam had the audacity to not be born to my mother, so here I am. Sir Fatted-Calf. And my own Lord doesn't even get a say! Just offers me up to yours."

"You are subject to the wishes of your Lord, as I am to mine. You should take honour in the value of your marriage and the strength it will bring to your country." Castiel had started on the second jar of wine without Dean noticing.

"What about you? Does Michael get to decide your future too?"

"Of course. The First must approve all marriages. But despite my rank I am not of Michael's blood and so am not fit to be chosen for any political purpose. I will find my own mate from within the pack."

Dean finished his meal and smacked his lips. "Shouldn't be too difficult for you. Bobby said everyone here loves you."

Castiel fidgeted. Nervous didn't suit him. "The pack's loyalty is to the First, as is mine. I am afforded the respect due to my position as Second and nothing more."

So Castiel was aware of how much of a threat he posed to Michael.

"I will marry where Michael wills it."

"Well Cas, that makes two of us." Dean didn't realise the slip until he noticed the werewolf's eyes narrow at him.

"My name is Castiel." Dean winced. Great. He'd most likely offended the high-ranking wolf by diminishing his name.

"My apologies." Dean sensed a shift of atmosphere and a return of formality.

"Unnecessary," Castiel said as he rose gracefully to his feet.

"Look I didn't mean to ..."

"Michael's council will be in attendance tomorrow. Ignore them. Any decisions made will be Michael's alone."

"Hey, thanks for the ..." Dean faltered as Castiel exited the tent without looking back. "...food."

Dean swiped a hand over his face and cursed over-sensitive werewolves and his own tactlessness. If his intuition was right he was going to be fighting alongside this guy and he got the feeling he'd made a less than favourable first impression.

He lifted his jar to his lips and in his distraction took too big a gulp. He coughed and choked and threw the clay jar in a childish temper; it hit the stiff canvas wall ineffectively and slid down to land gently on the fur-covered floor. As Dean watched the clear liquor spill quietly his anger drained out of him and he was left exhausted. Despite his nap earlier Dean lay down to sleep, resigned to accept whatever veiled insults would be levelled at them in the morning, so long as with them came with the means to defend themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Dean, John and the Hunters assembled in the same large tent as the previous day. The dining table had been removed but more bench seats had been brought in and arranged in a rough circle. There were around a dozen werewolves inside already, all in human form and all wearing the simple brown tunics he had seen yesterday, most surrounding Michael who immediately turned his back on them all and came forward to greet them.

"Good morning Lord John, let us not waste any time. I know how swiftly you must desire to be on your way."

"Yes my Lord. We have been away from home too long already." His father's response was polite but curt and Dean knew that the older man must have been seething last night the same way he had.

Dean noticed Castiel on the far side of the tent, flanked by two more tunic-wearers. These were most definitely warriors though, one male and one female and Dean guessed that they were Castiel's captains, which most likely made the red-headed woman Michael's sister and Dean's potential match.

He studied the woman. She was beautiful but cold and hard like a marble statue, similar in demeanour to Rachel. Her eyes darted around the room, sweeping over them and swiftly discounting them as a threat. Her attention seemed focused on the Second though. He was standing stiff and silent but both she and the other captain continually flicked their eyes towards him, alert to his slightest movement.

Dean and his father were ushered towards the benches; Isaac and Tamara took up their station a few paces behind them. As the other werewolves took their seats Dean observed that Castiel did not command the attention of only his captains. Anyone not directly attending Michael was casting the same quick glances towards the Second, angling their bodies towards him. The man himself appeared oblivious but even Dean could sense the power radiating off him.

No wonder Michael wanted him gone.

"My council, Lord John," Michael introduced the group dismissively. Castiel was seated to Michael's right with his captains standing behind. "We will now set terms for what I hope to be a long and mutually advantageous alliance." He paused to allow John to add his own opening compliments but he merely nodded sagely and waited for Michael to continue. Definitely still seething.

Michael gave a wry smile. "I am prepared to place one thousand of my finest warriors at your disposal. I regret I cannot offer more but as Sir Robert no doubt informed you my borders are beset with mountain raiders."

Dean dared a glance at Castiel who's expression could have been carved from stone.

"It is more than I could have hoped for my Lord," John replied truthfully.

"It will take some days to arrange the entire deployment but the first two hundred can be made ready to leave with you. The rest are spread throughout the mountains and will follow over the course of a week. In order to travel quickly they will need to travel unarmed. I trust you can provide weaponry?" He waited for John's affirmation then continued. "And as a gesture of my determination to see your war won, this army will be commanded by my Second."

No one seemed surprised, a few nodded in agreement with Michael's magnanimity.

"You are most generous my Lord. It will be a great honour to stand alongside such a respected and illustrious general." Dean should have known that his father would have reached the same conclusions he had. His comment would be sure to prick Michael's pride, and Dean hid a grin as Michael's smile momentarily froze.

"Indeed. In return I wish merely to open a trade route between your country and my own. We have occasional need of grain and other farmed things, but I shall leave the details to our allocated representatives."

"I shall send members of my council to meet with yours as soon as I am returned home."

"You are aware are you not that by our customs an alliance is sealed and strengthened by a bonding of the two packs through marriage?"

"I am my Lord. My son is proud to be able to bind our peoples together in friendship."

Dean held Michael's eye and rose confidently to his feet. This was his one purpose here and he would not let his father down.

"Your first-born son and heir to the Winchester lands and title," Michael announced for the benefit of his council. There was appreciative murmuring amongst the gathering. "We are honoured Lord John. Allow me to return the same. I present as mate my Second ..."

A collective gasp rolled around the circle. Dean froze in confusion. Castiel seemed equally shocked.

"...my personal champion and loyal commander ..."

Castiel had told him that he was not of Michael's blood, not fit for consideration.

"... valued counsellor and most celebrated warrior ..."

This was an insult. This was a humiliation. But John was powerless here and desperate, to refuse would be to walk away empty handed. Dean spun to confront his father, who was grinding his teeth in an attempt to contain his anger.

"... Castiel."

Castiel was on his feet now, facing Michael. "My Lord this is not right. You cannot expect- "

Michael stood, eyes blazing. He was taller than Castiel but the blue-eyed man seemed somehow bigger. "Know your place Castiel! Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."

The council watched the exchange with wide eyes. The captains were tense, ready to fight. Dean could almost taste the atmosphere it was so thick, like the prickly sensation of a lightning storm.

The two werewolves squared off for long moments, neither blinking. Dean became aware of a low rumbling growl, felt in his chest cavity before it reached his ears and he suddenly realised it was emanating from Castiel. The council looked ready to wet themselves. Michael was holding his ground though, pride rather than courage preventing him from showing weakness. The growl quickly rose in pitch until it escaped Castiel in a sharp bark that made Michael and the others flinch.

"The First wills it and so it shall be done," he snarled. Michael visibly sagged with relief but recovered almost immediately.

"Then take your place Second." Michael turned to John almost as an afterthought. "Is the match acceptable to you Lord John?"

Dean knew he couldn't have given any other answer but watching his proud father quietly give his assent hurt Dean far more than he thought possible. In that moment he hated Michael.

No one had moved an inch since Castiel had taken to his feet but now they all sank to their knees, enclosing Dean and Castiel. His father slumped in his seat. Michael motioned to the two standing men and Dean abruptly realised that this was it. His wedding.

He numbly approached Michael with Castiel at his side and mimicked the Second as he fell to one knee. Castiel's eyes were on the ground by Michael's feet but Dean could feel the outrage pouring off him.

Michael placed a hand on each of their bowed heads. "Let these before me be joined in sacred bond. Together let them take their place amongst us with the blessing of the First. Let their union symbolise the unification of two peoples in long-lasting alliance. Let their souls find peace as they stand now as one."

Castiel almost sprang to his feet, dislodging Michael's hand. As Dean stood beside him an unearthly howl assaulted his eardrums. The werewolves all had their human heads thrown back and were howling in unison. The Hunters behind John both reflexively reached for their swords but it went unnoticed. Only the two captains remained silent, their eyes fixed on Castiel as though waiting for orders.

The howl died away and Michael stepped back, smugly watching Castiel. Without a word Castiel turned and stormed out of the tent, his captains hurrying to follow.

"We will dine tonight in celebration of our new friendship Lord John." Michael extended his arm to John, who did not extend his own. Michael seemed unconcerned and merely smiled benignly. "My wolves will be ready to leave at dawn. Congratulations young Winchester."

With a last smirk Michael swept outside. A couple of advisors went with him but the majority milled around them, offering their own stunned congratulations to a shell-shocked Dean. One by one they filtered out, leaving the four humans alone.

Isaac and Tamara both shook Dean's hand, happy although it was clear they knew they'd missed something important. Dean supposed that on the face of it their mission had been a complete success. They were returning home with a veritable legion of trained warriors led by a competent and fearsome leader. In their eyes he had been paired off with a very popular and high-ranking werewolf. The power games Michael was playing were irrelevant. Dean tried his best to shake it off.

"A thousand and the Second, Dad. It could have gone a lot worse."

To Dean's astonishment John stood and awkwardly embraced his son. "You did good Dean. Stay away tonight. No point in us both having to endure it."

Dean could only nod, he didn't trust the emotion in his voice not to embarrass him. With a nod of his own John turned to the Hunters. "See to it we are ready to leave at first light. Tell the boys if they sleep in they get left behind."

Suddenly Dean was alone. And married. To a man whose raw power made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Who commanded the army that would save his people.

He'd not even had breakfast yet.

.

Dean decided to make the most of his wedding day and head further up the mountain for some thinking time. He stopped by his tent first and pocketed several of the apples Castiel had brought round the night before.

He followed a small stream upwards through the trees until his legs were burning. The sun was high and he imagined he'd managed to put several miles between himself and the settlement. He settled down in a small clearing and munched his way through the apples he'd brought, drinking chilled water from the stream. He lay back on the soft moss intending to rest up a bit but in the warm winter sunshine quickly dozed off.

He woke around mid-afternoon as the sun was losing its heat. He chided himself at having let his guard down so thoroughly and started back down. He was surprised to hear voices a little way ahead. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping he turned to skirt around whoever it was when he recognised Castiel, his husband, gruff and angry.

"What is done cannot be undone. You would do well to hold your tongue Gabriel. You forget that you speak to Michael's Second."

"My point entirely!" Through the trees Dean caught glimpses of a short, naked male. "He's married you off to the heir of the Winchester holdings Castiel! Are you even his Second anymore? As mates your place must be together, only as heir his rightful place is far, far away. Michael's finally managed to get rid of you brother and he's done it without losing a drop of his own blood. This whole thing was a set up!"

"Enough! Regardless of my position Michael is still your First and he will have your respect."

"Michael's a big bag of dicks and you know it."

Even as he grinned at Gabriel's assessment, Dean was almost knocked off his feet by the force of a deafening roar as Castiel's temper finally snapped. Gabriel dropped to his knees, neck bared.

"You will not speak of the First in this manner. It will not be tolerated! Your loyalty is not to me Gabriel but to your Lord. Were you not my blood- " Castiel let out another roar of frustration, then deflated as he stared at the submissive form of his brother. "I am to meet with Michael and the council this evening. I will request that you accompany us in the morning but you will abide by Michael's ruling. And you will not speak against him again, not even to me, is that clear?"

"Yes Castiel." Gabriel was visibly shaking; Dean was alarmed to find he was too. "What about Amelia?"

Castiel sighed. "There was no arrangement. She will understand."

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach. He'd been so consumed with what this marriage had meant for him that he hadn't considered how it would affect Castiel. Turns out the guy was losing his rank, leaving his home, risking his life in a war that was not yet his and had been torn away from a woman he was evidently involved with. Dean felt sick.

"Castiel, I'm worried about you. I've never seen you lose it like this."

"I'll be fine brother. I was just not expecting to find myself married today," he sighed again.

"And tonight?" Gabriel's voice had a teasing edge to it. Dean held his breath. His wedding night.

"This marriage is an insult Gabriel. It would be best if we were not to pretend otherwise."

The werewolf was only voicing Dean's own opinion but something twisted in his chest at the words. He knew that the insult was Michael's, that the Second had had nothing to do with it and that under other circumstances Dean would have been privileged to be bonded with such a man.

But to discover that Castiel also viewed the marriage as a humiliation tore at Dean's pride. It couldn't have been his status that Castiel objected to, it must be he himself. He swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat and began to move away, back down the mountain. He caught a little more of the conversation before the voices faded out.

"He seems okay though, from what I've heard."

"He is desperate."

"And a looker."

Dean snorted. The babbling water of the stream drowned out the rest and he wasn't sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Dean ate a quick meal with Isaac and Tamara in one of the communal tents alongside the two blonde women, Rachel and Hester, and Uriel and Samandriel. He was introduced to many others who would be travelling with them in the morning but his mind was too preoccupied to remember their names.

He excused himself as soon as he'd finished eating, the endless congratulations making him feel nauseated. The marriage was evidently a popular one amongst the ranks. He returned to his tent and threw himself onto the fur-bed, staring up at the canvas ceiling and trying to stop replaying the overheard conversation.

Some time later he heard his father leave, presumably for dinner with Michael, and felt a twinge of guilt for not sucking it up and accompanying him. Not enough to make him actually go, but enough to make him feel like crap for not going.

He was about to stick his head outside and ask someone to fetch him some of that wine when the tent flap opened. He was unsurprised when Castiel entered, only grateful that he had two large jugs in his hands.

"It is expected that we share a tent tonight," he explained in his low, rough growl. "It is symbolic."

Dean could guess who expected it. He nodded and took one of the jugs. "Sit down Castiel, I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Castiel sat in the same spot he had the previous night. He appeared tired and hunched forward over his crossed legs.

"You okay man? You look drained."

Castel looked up. "The preparations have been extensive. But the first company are ready to go and the others have been sent word. By the new moon you will have your thousand men."

"Have you had much personal business to sort out?" Dean couldn't help it. "Any family you're leaving behind? Friends?"

Castiel was too exhausted to be suspicious. "My brother Gabriel will be joining us with a later contingent. He has been sent to rally the other companies. He's a message bearer but only because he's fast. He can fight too, we trained together. He will be valuable to your father."

"You don't have to justify bringing your brother with you beyond telling me that he's your brother. I can't wait to meet him."

Castiel took a large swallow of wine. "You would like him. He's irreverent too."

Dean hid a small smile. He suspected Castiel was too tired to notice the slight and he liked that he was seeing a different side to the stoic Second.

"I wanted to ask what's going to happen to you now? You know, now that we're bonded and all. How does that work with your position as Michael's right hand man?"

"It doesn't. I've just come from meeting with the First." That would explain the wine. "I am to be replaced upon our departure tomorrow by Raphael." He sighed and fixed Dean with an intense blue stare. "Mated pairs are not inseparable but any lengthy absence is strongly discouraged. It can become ... uncomfortable."

"You mean physically uncomfortable? How? What the hell kind of marriage is this?" Dean stood sharply and paced the short length of the tent, dragging his fingers through his short hair. Bobby definitely hadn't mentioned this.

"I doubt you will experience any of the symptoms we do. The bonding between two wolves is not merely words at a ceremony. It binds two souls together. But you are human, your soul does not crave another. I believe you will be spared the discomfort." He drained half his jug in a single draught.

Dean planted himself on the floor in front of Castiel, eyes wide. "So what happens if I die? Now that our souls are bound. What happens to you?"

"We can survive the death of a mate. Though not many choose to."

Dean sagged back to lean on the fur bed. This was too much. He grabbed his own wine and forced down a few long sips. It burned his throat but it was familiar enough that it began to calm his nerves through conditioned response.

God he was a mess. He drank too much, gambled, slept around. He struggled his way through council meetings and public audiences at his father's side. He was smart but not book smart like Sam or Adam. Alright, he could lead an army but he couldn't even get his dogs to stop sleeping on the bed. And here was Castiel, his antithesis in almost every way, forcibly tied to his sorry ass for all time.

Too right it was an insult.

"Did you have someone here Cas? Was there someone you would have chosen given the chance?" He closed his eyes. He had to know but couldn't bring himself to watch Castiel tell him. He groaned as he realised he'd cocked up his name again but Castiel started talking before he could apologise.

"Not really. The First would never have approved the match. She has a blood connection with him, albeit a very weak one and I would never be permitted to marry into Michael's bloodline."

"What a dick."

Castiel actually chuckled. Dean wondered whether the wine he was finishing was his first of the evening or not. "Yes, you and Gabriel will get along just fine."

Dean became acutely aware of how close his sprawled out legs were to Castiel. If the werewolf relaxed much further they'd be touching.

"I've been wondering, what's the deal with the clothes?" He tried to distract himself from thinking about the implications of Castiel being in his tent on their wedding night. And from the heady image of him laughing. "I mean, can you change with them on? How come most of you don't wear anything?"

Castiel smiled. "Your curiosity is refreshing. Clothing is not necessary. We are not subject to the elements as you are and are not confined by the same sense of modesty. Clothes are a symbol of status, or rank. The children you may have seen wearing skins are Michael's. Obviously members of the council and my own high ranking officers are permitted to wear the tunics."

Dean nodded. "And the higher up the ladder you are the better the clothes?" He pointed to Castiel's own finery.

"Yes. With status it becomes easier to incorporate more elaborate clothing into the shift. Even so some of the council-members still are unable to do it. They must change into human form and then dress. Warriors are trained to shift with weapons. We can fight equally well in either form." He looked down at himself."I suppose I shall have to change my apparel as befits my loss of rank."

Dean had had enough of watching proud men brought low by Michael's scheming. "You are married to the heir of powerful lands Cas, and general of an army. If Michael doesn't want you as his Second then I want you as mine. I know you've lost out here but status is one thing you don't have to give up."

He almost jumped out of his skin when Castiel let out a loud bark directed towards the tent door. The werewolf looked apologetic. "I appreciate the gesture. It would be an honour to stand as your Second. But please do not concern yourself with my personal life Sir Dean. I am glad to do my duty."

Dean's face fell but Castiel didn't notice as Samandriel entered and placed two more wine jugs on the ground before immediately turning on his heel and leaving.

"I finished my wine," Castiel explained, reaching for a jug. As he leant over his leg brushed against Dean's. The human suppressed a shudder.

"It's just Dean," he sighed. "Surely married couples are allowed to be a bit less formal?"

Castiel squinted. Again, not adorable. "I would imagine so. Dean."

Castiel quickly finished his next wine jug in silence. Dean considered that this was possibly one of the most awkward wedding nights in history.

"So." Dean started. Castiel looked up expectantly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "So. Tonight. Are we expected to ...?" He flicked his eyes towards the bed.

Castiel shook his head. He was uncomfortable again. "I doubt it. I am only here for tradition's sake." Dean sighed in resignation. Castiel mistook it for relief. "This marriage is less than desirable Dean. Please understand that I require nothing from you. I would not wish for us to proceed without making that clear."

The stark rejection rankled Dean and he tried to bite down the bitter anger welling up. It wasn't Cas' fault, he hadn't wanted any of this, and he was going to help win their war. But still, Dean wasn't used to being turned down and he fought against the urge to lash out.

"Well don't you worry yourself Castiel, I get you. No reason why this joke of a marriage should affect us more than we let it. I'm glad we got it straightened out early. Married in name only. Fine by me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and if Dean didn't know better he'd say the werewolf looked hurt.

"Fine. Goodnight Dean." He turned away and lay on the ground-furs with his back to Dean. His posture was tense and defiant and Dean just stared for a moment before rolling onto the bed and covering himself over.

.

He was awakened by busy movement outside the tent. His eyes darted to the floor where Castiel had slept but he was alone. He threw some water on his face and stepped outside, strapping his sword-belt on and throwing his cloak around his shoulders against the chill.

It was still dark but werewolves in both wolf and human forms were milling about, readying for their departure. Not too far away there was a large group of wolves, around twenty or thirty, all sitting quietly but alert and focused on something Dean couldn't make out. The wolves suddenly rose to their feet in unison as Castiel walked between them. Even in the dark Dean could see he was back in full-on badass mode. He strode confidently and with purpose among his warriors until Dean lost sight of him again through the trees.

"Sir Dean?"

Dean spun around to face the male captain who had witnessed his and Castiel's wedding. "Yes?"

"My name is Balthazar, captain to the Second. I have been instructed to show you to your horse."

"No man, my horse bolted. It's back down the mountain," he explained.

"Yes." The man seemed amused. "I was referring to your new horse. If you would follow me." Balthazar headed off in the opposite direction to Castiel and the wolves. Dean looked again for his husband but the werewolf was gone. He caught up with the captain.

In a small clearing stood eight calm horses next to a small pile of tack gear.

"What the hell? Our horses were terrified of you wolves."

"There is a human trading village not too far from here that we use from time to time. Their horses have grown accustomed to us. The Second sent for these last night." He indicated a large black mare standing off to one side. "I believe he said that this one was intended for you."

Dean was speechless. The mare was beautiful, strong and powerfully built but still sleek and graceful. She probably cost the same as the others combined.

"A wedding gift," Balthazar explained. "I shall send your young to assist you. I'm afraid we have no experience with the dressing of horses."

Dean could only nod his head as he approached the mare. He heard Balthazar walking away as he held out his hand in greeting. The mare took a sniff then nuzzled his hand briefly.

"Sorry baby, I've got nothing for you." He ran his hand appreciatively down her warm neck. She was smooth as silk.

The squires arrived shortly afterwards, obviously just roused from their sleep, and set to work saddling the horses. Dean tended to the mare himself, marvelling at the fact that Castiel had thought to give him such a remarkable animal.

They led the horses back to the tents where John was talking with one of the council members Dean recognised from the day before.

"Zachariah here was just passing on Lord Michael's apologies. He's unwell and cannot leave his bed to bid us farewell." His father was generally at his most ill-tempered first thing and this final slight was proving to be just one too many for the proud Lord. He was hanging onto civility through gritted teeth.

"My Lord Michael is beside himself that he was unable to personally see you safely away. I am here in his stead and unless I am very much mistaken I do believe that everything is ready and waiting on your order Lord John." Dean suspected that Zachariah was revelling in being chosen to deliver Michael's parting affront.

"Please thank him again for his support and his hospitality. We will leave immediately."

If John was surprised to see the horses he didn't show it. They all quickly mounted. Dean realised that other than Zachariah there were no other human figures in sight, only dozens upon dozens of wolves. As the thin grey light of dawn filtered through the trees, a huge tousled-looking wolf approached them, black as pitch with two bright blue eyes shining in the gloom. Even if Dean hadn't recognised the eyes he would have been able to identify Castiel by the way every single wolf watched him intently.

He paused to look up at John, casting a quick glance towards Dean. At John's respectful nod he turned on his heel and trotted back through the wolves who now turned to follow him. John urged his horse forward and they set off for home.


End file.
